Nascor Denuo
by Kylip
Summary: Waking up nude, 3 ft tall and with pointy ears in the middle of a talking forest was not on Harry's to do list when he died. Apparently, it wasn't on Draco's either. Try telling that to a lunatic Istari. This is an elfling fic! Slash DM/HP
1. Chapter 1

Nascor Denuo

&&&&&&&&&&

The final battle was a mess of mud, body parts and blood. The rain had stopped an hour ago. Creatures and wizards alike, both Light and Dark, lay drowning in their own fluids. At the top of a hill before the Forbidden Forest three figures dueled in a dance of emerald and ruby light, their voices rising and falling in the wind. Voldemort was weakening. He knew it would not be long before his last reserves of power would fail him. And now there was not a single Horcrux left to save him from death. Suddenly the three opponents stopped and observed one another for a moment. The two young wizards facing the Dark Lord were as different as earth and sky, fire and water.

Harry Potter, the Chosen One, prophesied to defeat him or die should he fail. Unruly shoulder length black hair snapped in the wind and emerald eyes burned with hatred. Tattered and bloodstained battle robes clung to his strong figure. In the year leading up to this moment Potter had become a man. With the application of nutrition potions and combat training, his skinny frame had thickened, put on well defined muscle and shot up to a height of 6'5. War had no mercy for the weak, as Severus Snape once said.

Draco Malfoy, however, seemed to be the exception to this rule. In the past year he had grown in height to match Potter but he had not had the benefit of nutrition potions nor a person who cared to prepare him for the coming conflict. Indeed, Malfoy had spent the last year 7 months languishing in the dungeons of his own home. Stretched and thin, he looked as though he was made of brittle twigs bound together beneath his translusent skin. Even sickly as he was, his silver eyes burned with the same hatred as Potter's though a familiar madness glittered in their depths. Dirty blond locks that had been shorn close to the skull during his imprisoment had grown and now reached his ears. The robes he wore were not fit for battle as evidenced by the blood leaking through the thin cloth and the shivers that racked his failing body but the young man did not seem to care.

The moment, for it had only been a moment, broke and the battle raged on once more. Calling on the last shreds of power and the sick twisted strands left of his soul, Voldemort screamed the darkest curse he knew, one that surpassed even Avada Kedavra in its evil nature. Only the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries knew of its existence, so sensitive was the knowledge of this spell. As twin beams of green shot towards his form, he laughed and the words that reached the champions ears burned through their minds like acid before darkness took them.

"UT DELEO SUUM ANIMUS!"

&&&&&&&&&&

Notes

________

Nascor Denuo is Latin for "to be born anew". Corny, I know.

Ut deleo suum animus is Latin for "to erase their souls". Come on, what's worse? Being killed or having your very being erased from existence? There would be no one to mourn or remember you because you never existed in the first place.

And here I'm assuming Moldyvort's magic knew to seek out his opponents and not just everyone on the battlefield.

So, who likes it?


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing! Happy Holidays Everybody!

&&&&&&&&

Harry Potter had been certain of two things during the final battle. One; he would kill Voldemort. Two; he was going to die in doing so. He had come to terms with both facts, though it had been a long and painful road to that acceptance. But somehow Draco Malfoy fighting and dying alongside him had never part of that equation. After the events of his sixth year and those leading up to the battle, Harry had forgiven Malfoy for his part in Dumbledore's death and had even pitied him on occasion. The character of Malfoy, however, had been cemented in his mind as that of a weak and somewhat cowardly creature. Hence his surprise when Malfoy, bleeding, broken and half mad had fought beside him against Voldemort. And as Harry had let the darkness creep across his vision, ignoring the acidic last words of the Dark Lord, he felt a curious kind of gratitude and almost fondness for Malfoy. The last thought to cross Harry's mind was that he regretted not being able to know this brave stranger who had so willing laid down his life for the Light.

***

Draco Malfoy had been certain of two things in the final battle. One; he was going to die. Two; he was going to take that scaly skinned fucker his father called lord straight to hell with him. Due to the fact that he was sure he was losing what little sanity he had left after his delightful stay in his _own_ dungeons, Draco did not feel as concerned with his coming death as he otherwise might have been. In fact he had been too amused at Potter's face when he had intercepted a very nasty spell meant to turn your lungs to ash that he didn't even twitch when Voldemort's cutting spell hit home. As amusing as Potter's reaction was the Dark Lord's was priceless, and then Draco was too busy trying to kill the bastard to pay attention to anything but dodging the Killing Curse and other nasty spells. When the Killing Curse left his lips and Voldemort spat out his last words, Draco wondered if this first and final act of bravery would be enough for redemption. Somehow he thought not.

***

Having believed they were slipping into death's embrace when darkness covered their eyes, the two young men were quite surprised to wake up. To even _wake up_ defied each one's expectation of oblivion and hell respectively. To wake up surrounded by trees even more so. But what instilled panic in at least one was the fact that they were not as they had been last they saw each other.

***

Harry had not expected oblivion to be green. He had not expected to hear birds singing or the sound of running water or to be able to feel a sweet smelling breeze caressing his skin. He had not expected to see warm shafts of sunlight peeking through the branches of giant and ancient looking trees. And he absolutely, unequivocally did _not_ expect the afterlife to include a miniature Draco Malfoy. A miniature, comatose and _naked_ Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly remembering that the last time he had seen Malfoy, Malfoy had been bleeding severely Harry rushed over to the small form quickly. Kneeling beside him, Harry noticed three things simultaneously. One; Malfoy was fine and where he had been wounded now only silver scars remained. Two; as he examined Malfoy the breeze turned chilly for a moment and Harry realized he was as naked as Malfoy. And three; his hands were unnaturally small. To small to be his.

Looking around the glade, Harry found that the source of running water was a creek a few feet away. Crawling over, he peered into the rippling, reflective water. The face that stared back at him was familiar only by the green eyes and black hair. It was too small though just like his hands, the face of a child. Just like Malfoy, he was no longer as he had been but a miniature of his former body. Feeling his panic mounting, Harry did something that he would vehemently deny doing in later years.

He screamed like a little girl.

&&&&&&&&&&

Cheers! This takes place roughly seven hundred years before Frodo Baggins is given the Ring by Gandalf.


	3. Chapter 3

New Year's Eve!

&&&&&&&&&&

A shrill scream brought Draco Malfoy back to consciousness. Not opening his eyes, Draco extended his magic into his surroundings. As far he could tell, hell was warm, sunny, had lots of birds and was inhabited by screaming little girls that sounded vaguely familiar. Or this could be some strange limbo, he thought as his magic turned inward. His wounds were gone and the sheer ache in his mind that Draco associated with his insanity was gone as well. All that remained was the annoying knowledge that he was very weak and would not be moving for at least the next few hours. It would have been the perfect time for a nap except for a few facts. He was in an unknown location, with a panicking girl who sounded too young to be on her own and as far as he could tell from the delightful breeze going past his nether regions, quite naked. Cracking his eyes open, Draco focused briefly upon the huge tree braches and glimpses of blue sky above his head before he searched for the source of the screams. He was abruptly confronted by a pair of naked buttocks and the fact that the child was not female as the high soprano suggested but in fact male. Whoever the child was, the screams ceased and then only whimpers could be heard as he frantically patted his face for some reason. Trying to sit up, Draco only managed to get his elbows under him before his muscles cramped very painfully, causing him to drop back to the moss covered forest floor with a whimper of his own. At the sound the child turned.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Draco said before clenching his eyes shut. Whichever deity stuck a miniature Harry Potter into eternity with him was a wanker and deserved a long and very painful death.

***

After Harry had made the noise which shall never be mentioned, he quickly brought his hands to his face. Pinching and pulling confirmed that yes, this was his face and no, this was not just a very disturbing nightmare. He looked about five years of age, same as Malfoy, and had pointed ears. This sent Harry into a milder panic attack and he whimpered softly. Suddenly a soft noise came from behind him. Harry turned just in time to see wide grey eyes stare at him for a moment before clenching shut. Malfoy cursed softly and shuffled his limbs as though trying to get up. Moving over to the blonde's side again, Harry decided he would panic later. Right now he needed to get the facts straight and see what was wrong with Malfoy.

Sitting next to the muttering child, for that's what they were now it seemed, Harry waited for him to open his eyes again. A few minutes passed by, Malfoy muttering words like "wanker" and other curses. Impressed but tiring quickly of the gutter talk, Harry interrupted.

"Malfoy are you just going to lay there and curse all day?"

Malfoy didn't move and kept his eyes shut though the cursing did stop. Concerned, Harry leaned closer to the still form.

"Are you alright, Malfoy? You're not hurt, are you?"

Malfoy's eyelids flew up at the query. If Malfoy had been a cat, Harry was sure the other boy would have been spitting and hissing by now, fur puffed up and hackles raised.

"Am I alright?! Am I alright?! Of course I'm not all right, Potter, you wanker! I'm in the Dark Lord's idea of hell, the first thing I see waking up is your naked buttocks screaming like a pubescent girl! And looking like a toddler! And on top of all that I can barely move! So no, I'm not alright."

Harry blinked.

***

Glaring up at the stunned face hovering above him, Draco refused to feel guilty. It was a stupid question to ask anyway.

"Now that you've got the idiotic question of the day over with, where the bloody hell are we? Last I checked the underworld did not have babbling brooks and songbirds floating around. And why are you small?"

At that Potter's face morphed from stunned to amused. Draco snapped his mouth shut and hoped Potter would ignore the last question.

"Well Malfoy, I have no idea why we're toddler size" and here Draco's hope imploded "but as to your other questions I'm sure this isn't hell or the underworld, whichever you call it. I was hoping you might have some idea. Why can't you move if you're not hurt, by the way?"

"I'm just a bit tired from the battle is all, Potter, as you should be too. And if this isn't hell where is it then, some Gryffindor's infantile version of paradise?" the blonde spat. Heaving himself up onto his elbows, Draco found he had enough strength back to hold the position. Finally registering an oddity in Potter's first sentence, he stilled. Feeling himself turn white at the realization, Draco's voice sounded slightly faint when he asked,

"What do you mean we, Potter?

***

Harry didn't know whether to laugh our cry when he realized Malfoy had as much knowledge on the situation as he did. Sighing Harry hoped Malfoy wouldn't throw a tantrum when he found out how big he was. That brave stranger Harry had wanted to know so much before he died? Probably wasn't going to show up again in this lifetime. But hey, Harry had gotten the miracle when it mattered.

"Look at yourself, Malfoy. We're the same size. Whatever spell Voldemort cast before we died must have malfunctioned…unless it was suppose to send us to a woodland glade in the middle of nowhere."

Malfoy's face scrunched up like a lemon. When he moved to sit up, he took on a slight green tinge. Worried Harry slipped an arm behind the other child's slim back, fingers catching on prominent ribs and vertebrae. Whatever damage the spell had healed in cut and bruised flesh, it hadn't healed the effects of starvation and illness. No matter what Malfoy said it was clear the two weren't going to move from the little clearing for some time. They had water at least and were somewhat sheltered from the elements though the lack of clothes might prove deadly if the temperature dropped below what it was at the moment. Luckily, their magic…or Harry's magic at least if Malfoy was unable to perform wandless spells…could provide clothing, shelter and maybe even some food. Foraging would probably be Harry's best bet though since he was rubbish at creating food from magic. But what if Malfoy really got sick? Or what if…

"You dolt, Potter" Malfoy muttered drawing Harry from his panic attack and back to the present. The green tinge had faded now that Malfoy was upright though he did not shake off the arm that supported his back.

"You never took Latin, did you? Hogwart's offered classes, I'm sure. Never mind, it's beside the point. The spell Voldemort used was "Ut deleo suum animus"…it means 'to erase their souls.' Erasing curses are very powerful and very dangerous because they consume so much of a person's core magic. I suppose it could have intercepted with one of the Killing Curses we cast, which would definitely add a degree of variability to the equation. Wherever we are though, we can be sure of at least one thing." And here Malfoy's face lit up with childish glee behind which a sort of weary awe glimmered.

"Voldemort is dead."

***

At this point the two children sat for a moment leaning against one another. All through the years they had known one another, the Dark Lord had been an influencing factor that had cast shadows on both their lives. The realization that the shadow was gone forever momentarily overwhelmed any panic or fear at their present situation with such a bone deep relief that they physically felt weak.

Many miles away in the forest an ancient being stirred in his sleep, muttering beneath his breath with a voice that rumbled through the soft, dark earth.

"Hroom hoom hroom, little creatures come to Fangorn's borders."

***

&&&&&&&&&&

For WishingWanderer and anyone else who thought the last two chapters were criminally short, I give you the product of THREE hours of brain torture. Enjoy! Slinks off to bed to wallow in a migraine…owie.


	4. Chapter 4

Don't you guys just hate New Year resolutions? They never seem to go anywhere. ;)

&&&&&&&&&&

While the two born again wizards mused with one another on the death of the most evil Dark Lord their world had seen in centuries, Galadriel stirred in her sleep. The Lady of Light was troubled, not by the darkness that lurked on the horizon but by something else. To her and her husband, Celeborn, the souls of all elves shone like burning suns in the gloom of the coming Age. She knew that no elves resided in Fangorn yet two souls of a brightness that rivalled the most Powerful of the Elven Lords had suddenly appeared in the middle of that ancient wood. When Galadriel reached out to touch those souls, she hit a barrier that repelled her with such force she awoke with a terrible start. Disturbed, the Lady retreated back into her sleep, knowing that Celeborn would want to council with others on the matter when she told him of the occurrence. Such beautiful light those two souls shone with.

Valar protect those bright souls from the darkness in Fangorn, she prayed before dreams claimed her once more.

***

After talking for sometime, the two little wizards found out the facts of their situation. Draco was shaking slightly but could in fact move around, albeit slowly. Both could perform wandless magic though they would have to take turns when performing tasks such as building a shelter or making clothes and the like. Harry was the stronger of the two and bigger by an inch or so. Since Harry had been healthy when the spell took them, all heavy magic such as defense and offense spells would fall to him for the first few days. Summoning some food and cooking utensils had been easy enough for Harry. After which Harry had built a small fire pit with rocks from the stream. Casting a version of the Bluebell Flame had been simple and soon the smell of cooking bacon and eggs filled the clearing. As the hours moved on, the air chilled slightly and the shafts of sunlight faded. Instructing Harry to bring him all the moss and dry leaves he could find, Draco had cast a charm. Where the big pile of moss had been now lay a giant green blanket that felt like the finest wool to the touch. Banking the fire for the night and making sure the Tutela spell was in effect, the two tired little boys snuggled down for the night. And the cares of the old world slipped off their minds with ease.

The two did not know it but the physiology of their new bodies compelled them to feel at home, to feel safe surrounded by these ancient trees and the strange new stars that whispered to them of comfort and home. And for once they did not fight against the feeling of safety.

***

Draco was warm and comfortable. Well, as much as he could be on hard dirt. Stupid Potter had forgotten a cushioning charm. It was such a foreign sensation he had to struggle for a moment to remember the events that led up to him being warm and comfortable. Shifting slightly Draco felt something wrapped around his middle. Looking over his shoulder he found that the green eyed midget had plastered himself along Draco's back. Ignoring the fact that they seemed strangely (under the circumstances) at ease with one another's nudity, they seemed to have survived the night no worse for wear. Thank Merlin Draco knew how to conjure raw food stuffs or they probably would have been eating leaves and twigs if it had been left to Potter. After a good meal and surprisingly deep sleep, Draco felt refreshed and much stronger than he had yesterday.

Wiggling his way out of Potter's sleepy embrace he stood and stretched his tiny body, free for once from aches and pains. He felt strangely renewed, as if he had been sick for a long time and had finally gotten his strength back. Walking over to the stream Draco splashed his face with the cool liquid and knelt for a moment, staring at the face that was reflected. With the exception of the pointed ears and random scars he'd gained in his teenage years, he looked almost exactly as he had when he when he was five.

Looking around at the clearing, Draco took in details he'd been too tired to take in yesterday. It wasn't sun up yet. Everything had that pale grey tinge of pre-dawn to it and the morning birds had yet to awake. The clearing was little more than a hollow ten feet across and ten wide carpeted with grass nearly as green as Harry's eyes. The trees that leaned over the little glade would have been giants even if the young men had retained their original height of six feet. The bark was dark and gnarled. Draco could almost imagine that there were smiling faces in the trunks, as disturbing as that thought was. The small stream running through came from the east and was only about two feet deep. Near the edge of the glade it widened and deepened to form a pool. On the opposite side of the pool the side of the hollow steepened to form a shelf of earth that smelled like it was covered in some kind of herb…probably mint by the smell of it.

The fire and the utensils Potter had conjured last night had disappeared once they were unneeded. Draco had thought they would be staying in the clearing for at least a week or so but with the intrusion of a foreign mind last night it most likely wasn't to be. At least he could create some basic items. Hopefully the magic of an adult wizard wouldn't overwhelm this small body of his. To start with he shot a Permanence and Renewing charm on the moss blanket he had made last night. Just in time too if the slightly deteriorating, mossy condition of the cloth was any indication. Draco glanced at the mussed head of black hair peeking out of the blanket and grinned. As amusing as it would be to have Potter traveling around bare arsed, Draco didn't think his eyes would survive the horror. With that thought in mind, Draco got to work.

***

Harry was aware of a few things as he slipped out of sleep. He was warm, even though he was in the shade and snuggled in what seemed like a down quilt. It almost felt like he was on a mattress but Harry knew he hadn't cast a Cushioning spell last night. The smell of tea, coffee and biscuits mixed with that of herbs, while the low murmur of Malfoy's voice casting filled the air. Sleepily Harry opened his eyes. The scene before him was quite strange.

Malfoy was sitting on what looked like a knee high stone mushroom before the fire pit, where Bluebell Flames cooked breakfast and by heavens! there was the coffee pot. Beside the blond lay another pile of moss and leaves like the one Harry had gathered last night. A pair of twigs that looked vaguely like knitting needles looped and pulled and twisted the organic matter into the familiar form of trousers. Coming awake by degrees Harry recognized the Sticking and Permanence charms Malfoy was muttering under his breath. Malfoy was already wearing a pair of green pants, so the second pair must have been for him.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. Malfoy turned around and snorted.

"I don't want to be looking at your naked arse for the rest of eternity, Potter and I'm sure you don't want to be looking at mine. We'll be going around in these till I can make up more."

Harry watched the other child go back to his muttering for a moment. Getting up and walking over to the stream, Harry washed the sleep out of his eyes. Looking down, he realized the hair that had been at his shoulders as an adult now reached his waist. Sneaking a look at Malfoy it seemed the same was true with the blonde. Summoning two ties of leather Harry proceeded to braid the dark strands back away from his face. Going over to Malfoy, he tapped a pale shoulder and offered the last tie. Distractedly the other took it and also braided his hair, still concentrating on the pile of moss. Going over to the blanket Harry folded it up, set it down and returned to the fire for breakfast. Once he was done, Harry went to the stream once more and sat. The breeze was back. Once again quick and fresh, it blew the smell of water and green growing things through the clearing.

Malfoy's mutterings stopped and with a quick jerk, the other child freed the material from the twigs. Walking over to Harry he handed the trousers to the brunette. As Harry pulled them on and tied the drawstring close, Malfoy summoned another giant toadstool for Harry. Malfoy motioned for him to sit. Silver eyes stared him for a moment before they glanced at the trees.

"Did you notice it, Potter?" Malfoy asked in a quiet voice, barely audible above the rustling tree branches.

"What? Are you talking about the trees or the fact that it feels like someone's watching us? Someone probed our minds last night, but I don't think they were able to get past the barrier spell." Harry spoke back in an equally quiet voice.

"I thought I was just imagining things last night, but if you felt it too…"Malfoy trailed off, his eyes taking on a far away look.

"We should probably be careful with our magic from here on out if someone is trying to find us." Harry said, bring Malfoy back from his thoughts. Nodding quickly, Malfoy continued.

"We shouldn't stay in one place either. If we both make enough basic necessities to last the next month or so, we can forage for the rest. A Bottomless bag is easy enough to make as is Bottled Bluebell Flame. As for the trees, Potter, were you actually listening to their whispers last night or did you just catch part of it?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment. He had only caught part of the murmurings the night before but what he had caught had sent something cold skittering up his spine.

"Ignoring the fact that we're discussing talking trees right now, most of them seemed to be warning us away from the dark ones, Huorns, I think they said." Malfoy spoke on, ignoring Harry's embarrassment. "Apparently the dark trees are near a border of some sorts, so we must be very close to the edge of whatever forest we're in. If we keep moving we're sure to come across someone who can tell as where we are."

"Why not ask the trees if you trust them so much?" Harry asked sarcastically. Malfoy looked startled for a moment, then beamed at Harry. The sight made him slightly nervous. The blonde stood up suddenly and walked over to a tree, muttering under his breath. Harry gaped after him. Malfoy hadn't actually taken him seriously, had he?

***

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Draco cursed himself. The solution to their whereabouts had been right in front of him the whole time and it had taken Potter's sarcastic comment to make him realize that. Trotting up to a giant sycamore, Draco laid his palms against the smooth bark and closed his eyes. He knew he probably looked incredibly stupid just standing there half naked and trying to talk to a tree, if the barely audible laughter behind him was any indication but he refused to care. If his time under Voldemort's wand had taught him anything, it was that no matter how stupid you looked…whether you were trying to talk to a tree or trying not to puke your organs out…embarrassment didn't help in the end. It was a useless emotion just like so many others, Draco thought morbidly.

As the small child was consumed in memories of his time in captivity, a mind not his own brushed gently against the shields of his Occlumency. Hoping he wasn't making a mistake, Draco opened his mind. And was overwhelmed by the senses of many. Vaguely aware that he had fallen to the ground, Draco heard Potter yell in distress. Then he knew nothing but green.

***

Far away at the Misty Mountains feet a roar so loud that it shook the very stones from the cloudy peaks echoed through the air. A great tearing and trampling could be heard as the ancient Sheppard of Fangorn crashed through the silent groves of his charges, searching for the source of his pain.

***

&&&&&&&&&&

Enjoy! I didn't even get a migraine on this one, I was so hyped up on hot chocolate and homemade blackberry coffeecake! By the way, Huorns are Ents that became treeish or trees that became Entish, no one really knows. They are very dangerous, vengeful and less intellectual than the Ents. Basically meaning they can't talk understandably to other races like Treebeard can. Huorns can create darkness to conceal their movements and move extremely fast. They also hate anything that chops wood(Dwarves, Men, Orcs) If you want to know more, look them up on Wikipedia. Also tutela is latin for "guard". So the Tutela Spell metioned is basically a guard or guardian spell. Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

&&&&&&&&&&

Harry's barely controlled laughter had quickly stopped when Malfoy fell to the ground in a heap of skinny limbs. Shouting in alarm he had raced to the fallen child, turning the small form onto his side and searching franticly for a pulse at the birdlike neck. The blonde had already been a sickly pale color yesterday and that morning, but that had most likely been exhaustion from the final battle and shock at finding himself in a strange place with a naked Harry Potter, someone he disliked on the best of days. Now he was stark white. Relieved after he had found a steady heartbeat, Harry had tried to wake Malfoy without success. As far as Harry could tell, Malfoy had passed out somewhere around mid morning. It was now close to midday and the blonde showed no signs of waking. After wrapping Malfoy up in the moss blanket, Harry had sat down and waited. He was nearly asleep again when he heard a strange booming sound.

Standing up, he looked around the clearing but nothing could be seen, or heard for that matter, besides whatever was making the noise. Tensing, Harry realized it was coming closer. Whatever it was, it was big and did not sound friendly. The booming had morphed into an enraged bellow followed by the creaking and ripping sound trees make when something hits them hard. Leaning down to crouch over Malfoy, Harry showed his teeth in a feral smile quite out of place on his childlike face. Whatever was coming, his magic would have to be enough to defend them. It _would_ be enough, he growled to himself.

***

Draco knew nothing but green. He was one yet he was many. The voices of the forests roared through his mind like fiend fire but it was not painful. He was Draco Malfoy as he remembered but he was also others. Names he had never heard or spoken before rang with the identity of self. Fangorn, Mirkwood, Lothlorien. He was the woods of Middle Earth, stretched thin and broken far from the borders of the elven kingdoms and the haunts of Ents. His elven body and that of Potter's were small and fragile compared to the might that was the forest. Once upon a time the three forests on this side of the Misty Mountains stretched all the way to Eriador, blanketing the land in emerald green. But the was an Age or more ago.

The lives that lived within these forests looked like bright fires glowing in the evening. To the north Mirkwood lay beautifully dark, the wood elves shining like shafts of sunlight far beneath the ground. Lothlorien lay in all her golden glory beneath the rule of the White Lady. Rivendell to the west, home to the Half-Elven Lord and his house. And all around him lay Fangorn, the eldest of the old woods, whispering to him of the past and the uncertain future. The weight of history threatened to punch holes through his mind but the one he was connected to, an ancient sleeper, shared the burden. The old soul awakened just enough to whisper a warning and name before Draco was thrust back into his body.

"He comes. Sheppard, Wanderer, Lord. Treebeard comes."

***

What leapt out of the surrounding forest with a terrifying bellow looked like a tree, strangely enough. A giant, pissed off and mobile tree, but a tree none the less. Harry didn't have time to ponder the latest weirdness in his life before an arm twice as thick as his waist hurtled down towards the prone form of Malfoy. Diving towards the blonde, Harry cast furiously, returning to the battle mind set easily. Like slipping on a well worn and treasured cloak the basics of shield, defend, retaliate whispered through his thoughts. Protect the wounded. Reminding him that only yesterday he had fought the darkest evil of his world. A walking tree was nothing he couldn't handle. This continued for a furious few minutes, the thick arms of Harry's opponent bouncing of his shield again and again. When the battle paused for a moment, the tree started speaking in a rumbling boom as it chest…trunk heaved.

"Hoom…strange little orcs cutting and…hoom…slashing where they have no business being…hoom. Hoom…crush you before you burn the forest…hoom…down."

Muscles tensed should the homicidal tree try anything, Harry growled. Figures, Malfoy does something to piss of the talking trees, faints and leaves him to deal with the fallout. At least it was probably Malfoy's fault. Maybe. He hoped. Or maybe the tree was just having a really, _really_ bad day.

"We're not orcs, you rotten overgrown twig! I don't even know what a stupid orc is! And we haven't cut, slashed or burned anything! All he did was talk to the stupid tree!" Oops…he insulted the twenty foot tall tree that was trying to kill them…oh well. The tree jerked back slightly and a pair of orange sized amber eyes Harry hadn't noticed before blinked slowly at him. A giant growth of moss which looked oddly like a beard moved as the tree mumbled to itself.

"Hoom…cheeky little orc…hoom."

***

Treebeard was confused, which was saying something. Being the oldest Sheppard in the forest lent him a great deal of wisdom and experience. So it was rare that something confused him. When he had charged toward the little beings, he had thought they were cutting down one of his charges such were the cries of distress the sleeper had been emitting. But no such crime was in progress and the cries of pain had stopped when he had entered the clearing. Looking down at the pale little being who was vehemently arguing he was not an orc, the old Ent thought that perhaps he had been…hasty. Earth and dirt forbid the others find out he had been hasty. He would never hear the end of it. So if these little beings were not orcs, what were they? From their small stature, the little ones must be children. But children of what race? They were not dwarves for they were too slender and pale. They were not hobbits, though they were the right size, for he had heard hobbits were extremely furry at the roots. Leaning closer he decided they could not be the children of men, for no man child glowed with such inner light. Inner light…hmm. Kneeling down, Treebeard peered at the slight face before him but the black leaves (hair…elves called it hair) atop the little one's head covered the ears.

"Hoom…perhaps…hoom hoom. Show me your…hoom…ears, little orc." The dark one had tensed, battle ready when he had leaned closer to the two. Suspicious eyes the color of spring moss glared at him intensely for a moment before the little one let out an aggravated huff.

"Not a damn orc…whatever the hell that is." The child growled as he hooked his hair around his ears, exposing their pointed tips. It was as he had thought. This one was a child of the immortal elves and more than likely, so was the other one. But what were two elflings doing in Fangorn? The nearest elven settlement was the Golden Wood and that was nearly a hundred miles away. Not so much for an Ent but it may well have been the other side of the world for these two. From the memories he retained of the elves so long ago, elven children were most precious of all things to the immortal folk. For an Elf to be born in this day and age was nothing less than a miracle, the birth of two a divine blessing. So where were their guardians? Treebeard creaked in dismay at the thought that these little ones had been abandoned. An Entling hadn't been born since before the Ent Wives had left, so he understood the elven sentiment that offsping were precious. Looking down he saw the pale one move slightly. Hmm…

"Hoom hum…what are two elflings doing in Fangorn's woods…hoom? He rumbled.

***

Pain was the first thing Draco was aware of. It felt like a bunch of goblins were banging around his skull with pick axes, mining for their precious gems. When he opened his eyes everything was a little blurry. Potter was standing in front of a giant blob. Potter was talking to the giant green blob and for some reason the brunette sounded slightly pissed off. As the pain faded and his sight cleared up the green thing resolved itself into a gnarly looking tree…that was looking straight at him. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he ignored the curious looks both Potter and the overgrown stalk were sending him and held his head for moment. Trying to straighten out the load of information he'd been given by the sycamore was going to be bloody annoying. Thinking back, Draco remembered the tree he had connected with mentioning something about a Sheppard coming…so the tree before him must be the Treebeard it was talking about. Treebeard was the one in charge of Fangorn, was in fact the Fangorn for which the forest was named, which was where Voldemort's spell had landed them. According to the sycamore, Fangorn was a dangerous place, yes, but in the company of Treebeard they could not be safer. The lord of the forest was apparently a wise and kind spirit who would look after them as well as if they were one of his own charges. The world they were in was called Middle Earth or Arda depending on who they asked. The brief images he had seen of the world outside the woods was not encouraging. Men and Dwarves were falling to a corruption that seeped into their courts like poison into a wound and the elves were fading, withdrawing into their havens and refusing to interfere in the affairs of Men. And somehow his and Potter's bodies had been transformed into those of elves. Elves that in the eyes of their new race, were barely out of the drooling and baby talking phase. If they went to Lothlorien or any of the other elven holds the journey would take months if not years without assitence and would bloody well kill their current bodies without. Draco briefly considered going to the Istari, Saruman the White, but something within him recoiled at the thought. The Istari were like the wizards of Earth but while back home they numbered in the hundreds of thousands, here you'd could count the entire population on one hand. The brand of magic here was more closely related to wandless magic than the Latin based spell casting back on Earth, so should they ever need to, Potter and he could pass off their abilities as those of an Istari. With the information at hand, Draco concluded that it was perhaps not urgent that they leave Fangorn at that moment. Indeed they were most likely safer within the wood then they were without. If, of course, Treebeard permitted their stay. If he didn't, they were well and truly fucked.

***

Malfoy _would_ decide to wake up after the homicidal tree no longer wanted to killed them, Harry decided. The Slytherin tactic could be excused though, now that the blonde was awake. Making sure his shield charm was still in place, Harry walked over and kneeled by the frowning child. Malfoy was sitting up and holding his forehead as if he had a killer headache but overall he looked healthier than he had before the talking tree attacked them. Color had returned to his skin and was actually showing a healthy pink, not a fever pink thankfully, in some place instead of sickly pale. Placing his hand on the back of Malfoy's neck, Harry was relieved that the temperature he felt was normal. Surprisingly the other did not shake off his hand nor bristle at his quiet question.

"Are you alright, Draco?"

The blonde ignored the use of his first name but nodded in answer to his question. Clear grey eyes looked at Harry for a moment, glancing at the looming figure behind the brunette before looking back. Harry didn't question why he felt the need to call the other child by his given name but he was sure it had something to do with the tree behind him. Show the enemy a united front and all that rot.

"I'm fine, Potter. You were right, the tree" and here he pointed a thumb at the sycamore he'd touched " did have the answers we were looking for. It told me where we are…not only that…but what species these new bodies of ours are and who that walking, talking, moss encrusted thing is."

Harry looked at the blonde with his mouth hanging open for moment.

"WHAT?!"

***

Okay, couple things. Please, please, PLEASE don't kill me for not updating in so long. I was stressing over a job offer the last couple weeks and my brain felt like too much stretched taffy for a while. Also, I know the story isn't moving along that fast because I get caught up in the little details way too easily, so thank you all for your patience and encouragement. With this update, I also changed my summary for Nascor Denuo because someone mentioned it read pretty flat. I don't know how much better this one is but I hope it still gets the main points of the story across. Anyway, enjoy! Also if you receided an update notice twice, I'm really sorry...I pressed the wrong button while uploading. lol


	6. Chapter 6

~_abc_~ Talking with their thoughts.

&&&&&&&&&&

Looking at the forest Sheppard before him, Draco pushed himself to his feet. Grimacing at the feeling of cotton balls stuffed inside his skull, he walked over to Treebeard, who kneeled to get a closer look at him, and stared into the giant amber orbs. Reaching out a hand Draco placed stick-like fingers upon the tumbling growth of moss that looked like a beard.

If this was going to work, he was going to have to be polite and respectful. Two things he really did not feel like being at the moment. Thank Merlin, his sire had insisted on the old traditions and manners, as the lessons would provide a good base for him to start with. Taking a deep breath he reached out with his core to the ancient being in front of him. Willingly the foreign mind connected with his.

~_We are lost, Sheppard, and far from our home. We can give you nothing but I ask you to shelter us, for beyond your wood there are those who would see us dead or worse. As we are now, we cannot defend ourselves in the outer world without great risk.~_

***

Treebeard did not know what to make of the pale little elfling. Moments before the child had been in pain but now he willingly opened his mind to the Ent, whose mind was so much more vast than his own that it could crush him. Not only that but he _had_ tried to literally crush him and his companion into mishmash of blood and broken bones. He knew the strength of his arms and had seen the tactic slaughter orcs four times as big as the small beings. Brave little Elfling…brave or stupid.

Staying very still so he did not startle either the pale one touching his face or the tense and watchful form of the green eyed child, he blinked in wonder when he felt the power emanating from the frail form before him. But why would the little one request sanctuary? The elves would be glad to shelter two of their own, though it would take time to contact the holds of the immortals. The wizards Saruman or Gandalf would also be willing to shelter them or take them to the holds themselves.

~_Why do you wish sanctuary here, little one? The holds of the elves or those of the wizards would gladly shelter you. They would be far safer and much more comfortable for such small children than Fangorn. For there are creatures within my borders that would see you dead far quicker than anything in the outside world.~ _

The foreign power rippled for a moment before becoming still once more. The pale one's mind was searching for something. Waiting patiently, Treebeard was rewarded with image after image being projected into his mind and slowly the little one began to explain. The world revealed was strange and disturbing, the battlefields viscous and bloody. Children used as weapons and trained to be killers from a young age. Man and creature died without the touch of sword or dagger, merely a flash of emerald light and life was taken from them.

~_We are not of Arda, Old One. Our world was torn by war and divided by blood. A great evil had descended upon our people…the one behind me was a great warrior who I fought against and in the end fought side by side with. We were fighting against one who called himself a Dark Lord and while we succeeded in killing him, our bodies did not survive the attack. We believed ourselves dead but when we woke we found ourselves alive and well in this clearing, looking as you see us now_.~

Images of battlefields strewn with bodies and shimmering with strange lights flashed in the darkness behind his eyes. The two before him appeared in these battles on opposite sides sometimes and at others fighting shoulder to shoulder. But they were not the small elvish children he saw now. They were grown warriors and not only that, but they were of the race of men. Barely out of childhood they swept across many battles, killing and destroying without a moments hesitation.

~_You battled with the power of the Istari, yet you were of the race of men.~ _

Treebeard's surprise caused his eyes to open suddenly, startling the dark one who moved forward as though to tear the pale one away from him. Lifting his arm, he made a placating motion with the limb, willing the small spitfire to remain calm. Strange that the dark one was so protective of one who, if the memories were truthful, had been an enemy for many years. The green eyed child must be very kind or very forgiving, the old Sheppard though. Probably both if the buried emotions of the pale one were any indication.

_~We were but no more, it seems. But we are not like the Isatri. The gifts of magic were given to us at birth and our people numbered as many as the trees within your borders. We need time. Time and shelter to understand this new world and these new bodies. I know to you, this request might seem hasty and most likely unwise but Fangorn is the safest place in Arda for us, at the moment. Please, Old One, I beg of you. Give us this kindness.~_

The pale one made an impassioned speaker, Treebeard mused. Should he grant the little one's request it would indeed be a hasty choice. But there were so few Ents left that moved through the forest as he did. Most did nothing but sleep or groom their leaves and bark if awake. It was doubtful that the two elflings would be noticed at all. And the soul of this one was pure, in the tortured way of a sapling hiding in the shadow of a mighty oak.

~_Quite a speech, young one. Very well…you and you comrade may stay within Fangorn. But I tell you this, be wary in your time here and stay away from the ones you know as Huorns; for their anger is swift and does not distinguish between orc or elf, friend or foe. Traverse the borders cautiously for foul beasts often think to find safety beneath the boughs of my woods. Can you care for yourselves? I know not the ways men or elves rear their offspring_.~

_~My thanks, Sheppard. You need not rear us…we have been taking care of ourselves for many years. As for the Huorns, the sleeper behind me warned of the dark ones and their anger. My companion and I will heed both your warnings. Are we free to wander the forest and surrounding lands?~_

~_Of course, little one_.~

The pale one's power rippled again…in an emotion Gandalf had once said was annoyance. The young Istari often became annoyed at the squirrels that stole his pipe weed when he visited Fangorn. Had he done something to upset his new charges?

~_If you would, Old One. My name is Draco and that of my comrade, Harry. Please call us by these names, for my companion might chafe at being called little one, though we know it would not be said maliciousl_y.~

So that was it! Treebeard felt a rumble of laughter swell up his trunk and burst out, causing the moss on his face to crinkle. Glancing over at the dark one, at this Harry…he let loose another chuckle at the child's perplexed expression. It made sense that ones such as these would dislike being called children, even if that was what they were now. The names they bore now, however, would have to change if they ever went to the outer world. They were foreign names and would draw attention as well as curiosity, something that Treebeard somehow knew the two would not welcome.

~_Very well, young master Draco. I will do as you advise…though your need not be so formal with me. Simply Treebeard will do_. _I give you warning, though. Should you go out into the world, be aware your names will draw much attention._~

As the ancient tree withdrew from the link, keeping his eyes on a twitchy Harry, he heard one last thought escape the pale blonde. It was merely a whisper but it made him sad to hear such relief and happiness in the formal little elf for such a simple act as kindness.

~_Thank you so much.~_

_***_

Harry didn't know whether he felt annoyed at the whole situation or relieved that the tree had stopped trying to turn them into miniature piles of broken bones and ruptured organs. He was gong to go with a little of both. Of course he was still slightly pissed at Malfoy for not only starting this mess but for ignoring him completely so the git could practice Legimancy with an overgrown twig.

Huffily Harry decided that Malfoy wasn't about to be crushed and so was safe for the moment, if the booming laugh the tree let out was any indication. Plopping himself back to the ground, he sat indian style and stared moodily at the moss covered dirt in front of him. Stupid Malfoy…this wasn't what he had meant at all when he told the blonde to talk to a tree.

"Potter, pay attention!" Malfoy's voice barked at him.

Looking up, he saw both the tree and the blonde looking at him with expectant expressions on their faces…well Harry wasn't too sure what the tree's expression was. He huffed again when the blonde's face started to morph into an annoyed snarl.

"Pay attention to what, Malfoy? The grass growing? You and the giant weed having a silent conversation? You've been ignoring me for the last twenty minutes, why include me now…" he sulked.

He ignored Malfoy's aggravated sigh and went back to watching an ant crawl over a rock.

"Fine, Potter." Hiding his eagerness to be in the know, Harry lifted his head. "The giant weed as you call him, is Treebeard, the…warden as it were… of the forest we landed in. He is an Ent. The forest is called Fangorn and Fangorn is in someplace called Arda or Middle Earth, call it whichever you want. Incidentally, Britain doesn't exists in Middle Earth…nor does magic as we know it. Apparently, the Dark Lord's spell somehow transported us into an alternate universe and new bodies. Which are elven bodies that just happen to be barely out of the drooling stage , by the way. Are you paying attention now, Potter?"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?! These bodies look nothing like house elves! We just look like kids with pointy ears. And what do you mean magic doesn't exists? We've been using magic since yesterday!"

The blonde was insane, the sane part of Harry's brain said. But then again their situation should be impossible, yet here they were…talking to a walking, talking tree. Harry promptly told the sane part of his brain to shut up.

"If you had ever paid attention in Binn's class, you'd know this." Malfoy grouched.

"In our world there are many different races of elves, though they all descend from a common ancestor. There are the house elves that serve families and establishments, which are mostly shunned by the other species. Then there are high elves and dark elves, among others that I won't mention now. These new bodies most resemble the drawings of High Elves I saw in the Manor's library as a child. Basically they are a humanoid race that lives somewhere between five and fifteen thousand years."

The blonde paused for a minute to catch his breath, looking over at Treebeard for a moment before continuing.

"As for the magic aspect of things…magic does exist in this world but it is vastly different from the magic we use. On earth our kind was scattered across the globe and our population was somewhere over five hundred thousand. Here there are probably a total of five or six wizard in existence and that's it. These wizards call themselves Istari and unlike us, they don't use wandless magic or wands at all. They use staffs." Looking smug at the dazed expression on Harry's face, Malfoy finished his lecture.

"Did you get all that, Scar-Head?"

Malfoy enjoyed that, the pleased smirk stretching his lips said it plain as day. If it had been the other way around Harry was sure he would be too. But at the moment all he felt was slightly nauseous. He had come to terms with dying, not being given a second chance at life in a new world. He definitely hadn't thought he'd be given an immortal body or be literally alone with Malfoy for the rest of that eternity But maybe…

"Is there a way to get back?"

A flash of emotion crossed the blonde's face that looked uncomfortably like pity. Harry crumpled slightly.

***

Draco tried not feel pity for the other child but the feeling welled up all the same. Potter had gone to the final battle expecting to die for those he left behind, unlike himself. He had merely thought he was going to end his wretched existence and take Voldemort down to hell with him. To be given this second chance with no way back to his loved ones must have been a bitter draught to swallow. Shaking his head, he crouched next to Potter's bowed back. Putting a pale hand against the tanned shoulder, he worked to gentle his acid tongue.

"There's not enough magic in this world to return us and even together we're not strong enough to manage a spell like that. Most trans-dimensional spells are kept under lock and key in the Department of Mysteries, but the spell that took us here was a fluke. A mutation of our killing curses intercepting the erasing spell, so …we're stuck here for the foreseeable future. I'm sorry, Harry."

***

Harry felt sadness overwhelm his for a moment and even anger at Malfoy for comforting him, though he didn't know why. But both emotions left as quickly as they'd come. He hadn't expected to return from the duel with Voldemort, anyway, so his situation was still the same. Besides, a second chance at life was a miracle that didn't come along every day…even if it did have a bratty Malfoy attached.

***

Treebeard stood up as Draco comforted Harry, watching the solemn scene. Now that his business here was finished, he knew he should leave the two younglings to themselves.

"Hoom…huum…keep in mind, young masters. Should you need me merely call and I will come….hoom.

But for now I must away…huum…take care of yourselves and be cautious."

At the acknowledging nod from Draco, the old Sheppard set out for his home. As he went he whispered to the benign sleepers and semi-awake ancients that were his charges, asking that the two small beings be watched over and cared for should they need it. Somehow Treebeard knew the two young ones were important…how they were important he could not guess…but between them they shared the power to shape coming events to. To change the fates of all the races, even. He could only hope the roiling magic beneath their skins would be used for the better and not rot like that of others gifted with such strength.

***

"Now what, Malfoy?"

Potter seemed to have recovered from his momentary anguish. Thank Merlin for that…Draco hadn't known how much longer he could dealy with an angst Potter. It was hard enough keeping his tongue in check for a short period of time with the dark haired boy. He didn't want to try it for an extended period. He'd go soft and probably start liking Potter…a disgusted shiver rolled through his frame. Probably start acting all nice and friendly like..._ugg_...what a horrible way to go.

Now that the Sheppard had given them sanctuary, they were free to roam. Draco surmised the two of them could travel comfortably enough through the forest till they found a spot suitable for setting up some sort of base. The clearing they were in would have been perfect if it was a little larger.

"We should probably stay on the move in case our visitor from last night tries to pinpoint our location again. Maybe even see the closest border of the forest, if we can avoid the Huorns and orcs." he murmured.

Potter nodded then paused for a moment.

"First you need to tell me everything you know about our situation and secondly, what the hell are orcs? Besides you snapping random snippets at me, you haven't told me everything. We need to fix that before anything else." Potter frowned up at him.

Sighing as he sat down in front of Potter, Draco resigned himself to a very long conversation.

&&&&&&&&&&

Late, late, late...I know. Please be kind...my plot bunny tried to make a break for greener pastures but I dragged him back his tail(strange fluffy cotton ball that it is)...muahhhah.

Cough...erm...cough...ignore that last part.

;)


	7. Chapter 7

_~abc~_ talking with their thoughts

Author's note: I would like to recommend that you read the earlier chapters of Nascor Denuo before you read the update, if it has been a while since you last read the story. Thank you.

And so time passed. Once Draco was done explaining, he lifted himself from his seated position and stretched. Crossing to the small stream he transformed two cups from some small rocks near the water and filled them with the cool liquid. Going back to Harry, Draco pushed one into the other child's lax hands.

"Drink, Potter."

Harry's head twisted to the side as he looked from the cup to Draco and sighed a heavy breath.

"So, we're basically on our own, is that what you're telling me?"

Harry's mouth thinned at Draco's nod and then relaxed, taking a deep drink of the stream water while contemplating the situation. Malfoy spoke again.

"We can ask for assistance from Treebeard, should we find ourselves in desperate straits. However, the world outside Fangorn is a treacherous place at the moment. Should we leave his borders, I fear we would find ourselves right back in the middle of a war, one far different from anything we know."

Finishing his water, Harry put the cup onto the mossy uneven ground and shrugged his shoulders.

"War we can handle, Malfoy, both of us have proven that by now."

"Maybe we can, Potter, but this is a different kind of war. And as we are now, trapped in these bodies, what do you think we could do? There is no way to change this, no way to grow instantaneously, no way to reverse the aging effect! We have to go through a second bloody childhood, and this one isn't going to be gone in the blink of an eye like ours was! It'll take centuries before our bodies will be fully grown, maybe longer!"

Harry brought up his hands in a placating gesture, motioning the blond haired child to calm down.

"I wasn't suggesting we get ourselves involved in the war, Malfoy, just stating the fact that we can handle danger should it crop. Anyway, even if our bodies do take that long to grow you said yourself our magic wasn't affected, yes?"

At Draco's nod he continued.

"Then we will be fine, whatever comes our way. After all, we defeated the Dark Lord, didn't we? Surviving a few thousand years together in a hostile enviroment should be a walk in the park for us."

Draco's lips twisted like he had bitten into a particularly ripe lemon for a moment till Harry thought the other child might be feeling ill. Then the pale mouth straightened and curved upwards. It wasn't a pleasant smile by any means, but then again compared to others Harry had seen it wasn't malicious either.

"I'll remind you of those words after the first five hundred years have passed, shall I?"

Harry smiled back.

"You do that, Malfoy."

Nearly four weeks had passed since the two wizards had first stepped foot into Arda. They had spent the days wandering the woods surrounding their small clearing and the nights going over their strange predicament and possible plans for the future. There had been awkward moments and even a few where the two thought they might come to blows, but soon they learned which subjects lead to bodily harm and avoided them accordingly.

The trees of Fangorn were mostly silent creatures unlike Treebeard, preferring to communicate through emotions and feelings more than words. Though, when the two elflings strayed towards the more dangerous residents of Fangorn or made to wander past the border of trees out into the open plains of Rohan, words sometimes filtered through.

Warning of orcs and marauding men made the two children content to watch the border from high above the ground, perched amongst the very tips of trees sometimes a hundred feet in height. A benefit of their new, flexible bodies made activities they hadn't done in years, thing like climbing trees and running for the sheer joy of it, easy and graceful.

A strange thing had occurred though. As easily as they could reach to the consciousness of the forest surrounding them, they could touch the thoughts of each other even more easily. Uncomfortable and unwanted as this new ability was, they each had enough experience with unscrupulously cast Legilimens to respect the boundaries of one another's minds. Of course, a lingering wariness enforced their unwillingness to delve into the mind of the other.

Though night had fallen the stars were yet young when Harry felt a thrill of cold run icy fingers down his neck. He paused, stilling the hand that had been turning a spitted rabbit over the flickering blue tongues of the fire. Harry looked around the small clearing in puzzlement, every instinct honed by battle quivering beneath his pale skin.

Draco was ensconced in his mossy blanket, made what seemed a life time ago, stirred and moaned low in his throat. Moved to action, Harry crossed the clearing quickly and settled close to the others side, murmuring his name quietly. Close quarters had taught Harry not to startle Draco awake with touch.

"Malfoy, wake up, now!"

Slow as a snake in full sun, grey eyes opened and blinked in confusion when confronted with stars instead of blue sky. Slanting over to Harry, they narrowed in annoyance. Before Draco could voice his displeasure, Harry placed a finger against his mouth to motion for quiet.

"Something is wrong."

Draco had been having a very lovely dream of chocolate liquors and roasted potatoes before Potter had so rudely awoken him, so he was quite justified in his annoyance and opened his mouth to deliver a verbal lashing to the brute. Potter's words, however, brought him out of post sleep sulk quickly. Looking around the clearing, Draco could see nothing to indicate what had prompted the other boy's words.

The fire crackled happily and the rabbit roasting on the flames sent out enticing aromas as the fat popped and spit. A warm wind was blowing so the temperature was relatively balmy and there were no clouds covering the stars. And for once those bloody owls and night insects weren't causing such a ruckus as to disturb his beauty sleep. Scrunching his nose up, Draco briefly remembered a class Hagrid had taught, long before the war had started for Draco…something about predators and the effect they had on the surrounding…prey.

Feeling fear start to claw its way up his throat, Draco closed his eyes and thrust his magic out and into the surrounding area. Before coming here his magic had only been able to go so far as his weak body could handle such strain, but here a delightful quirk of his new physiology let him project that burden onto the colossal trees that formed Fangorn.

Slowly, mile by mile he let his magic pulse through the trees, searching for the feeling of danger that might have disturbed Potter. For a few moments only random feelings passed through his magic…contentment, leaf tips yearning for the sun and roots in their never ending search for water, the occasion rotten sour feeling of a Huorn brooding in a dark corner of the forest…there!

A rush of emotions and thoughts barreled through, with a clear picture forced into Draco's mind by the panicked trees along with garbled words.

_~Fear! Anger! Crush! Kill! They come, with tooth and claw and fang! Rip and bite and tear and hunt! Hide little one, hide! They will eat you!_

Draco opened his eyes to Potter's concerned face and could say only one thing.

"_Fuck me_."

Harry frowned at Malfoy's curse and poked the blond in the forehead roughly.

"Fuck me? What do you mean 'fuck me'? All I said was something was wrong. That sentence does not rank a 'Fuck me' in return, Malfoy."

Malfoy scrambled quickly onto his knees, pulling on one of the leaf brown shirts he had been using for a pillow without bothering to shake the dirt off it and throwing the other at Harry quickly. Sputtering, Harry pulled it on without complaint.

"Trust me, Potter, it really,_ really_ does."

Before Harry could answer, a sharp howl broke through the quiet night air. Then another, and another and another sounded off in a semi circle around the clearing. Looking over at Malfoy in silent question, the other nodded his small head grimly. Silvery blond hair blew over one shoulder as the balmy wind turned suddenly cold.

"Those aren't wolves, Potter. I suggest you start casting."

Wargs. The information imparted to Draco had been sparse concerning these creatures. More images of the things flashed quickly though Draco's mind. Standing neck and neck with his father's prize winning Belgian draft horses at around 71/2 feet, the creatures easily dwarfed the minute elflings. At the moment, his ribcage would be a small mouthful for an adolescent warg. Physically they could do nothing to hurt or maim such large creatures. Magically, however, there might be a chance they could survive the encounter.

"Protego! Tutelo!"

Quickly following Malfoy's example, Harry silently cast every shielding and repelling charm he could remember. Layering spell upon spell he wondered what could have scared the other so badly. Malfoy, a man who had seen the worst Voldemort had to offer after failing to kill Albus Dumbledore. Then again, the last time Malfoy had been in a battle the man had been half came with different priorities he imagined.

Done casting his spells, he looked over at Malfoy to see him murmuring quietly and moving his slender hands in a small circling motion.

"What spell is that, Malfoy?"

The other finished his spell and opened pale eyes.

"A spell to hide our scent from those creatures and their ilk."

Harry started and his breath caught in his chest.

"Our scent?"

At the others nod, he breathed deep and rubbed at an old scar on his chest, pressing hard.

"I didn't think this world had werewolves."

"They don't. These…things…are not werewolves. They are more like a wolfhound crossed with a hyena. They're cruel, they're viscous and if they get their teeth in us, they will take their time."

"Sounds like Greyback, Malfoy. How big are they?"

"The top of our heads don't reach their shins."

"Merlin."

Draco bared his teeth in a grimace.

"We need to get into the trees, Potter, the higher the better. They travel in packs and if they get close enough they will try to crush us. Not to kill us, just to keep us down so they can…play… with us."

With a quick nod, Potter grabbed the mossy blanket that had been thrown near the fire. Transfiguring it into a rope of sturdy, corded rope, he threw it over his shoulder and started to an old giant of tree. Banking the blue flames of the fire Draco followed quickly, pausing for a moment when more howls sounded out. This time there were more howls coming from more directions. They were now completely hemmed in by the creatures.

The gigantic tree was old enough that the lowest branch was a good 13 feet off the ground and would not be easily climbed. The higher the branches went the closer together they got. Near the top, there was a dark cluster of blue black leaves that would provide adequate cover against prying eyes.

Turning towards Draco, potter nodded towards the lowest branch.

"Put me close to the trunk."

Concentrating, Draco pointed his hand towards Potter.

"Wingardium Le-vi-o-sa."

Potter's weight was light enough that he barely felt any strain and safely levitated him to the lowest branch. Quickly Potter returned the favor. As soon as Draco's feet touched the hard bark of the branch the sound of howling returned, closer and louder than before.

"Climb!"

Potter started climbing to the next branch at the quiet hiss. With another quietly whispered spell from Draco to help him along, Potter made it to the second branch. Locking his legs around the wide thing, he levitated Draco up to rest beside him and scooted back to rest against the trunk while waiting for Draco to catch his breath. As his back touched bark, three large bodies crashed into the small clearing. Looking down, he echoed Draco's earlier comment.

"_Fuck me…"_

__Hello everyone! Wow, over two years since I've read or worked on this story. It seems like a life time ago. For any new readers welcome to the universe of Nascor Denuo. To old hats, I welcome you back and thank you for your patience over the last two years. I know you most likely thought this story had been abandoned. But I am back and ready to send Draco and Harry on new adventures!


	8. Chapter 8

Hello, my lovelies and thank you for all the kind reviews. I hope you will enjoy this next installment.

Potter's quiet curse did not draw the notice of the wargs, consumed as the beasts were in tearing apart the small clearing. Inching closer to the still child, Draco kept his voice low and his head tilted away from the creatures.

"I told you my words were warranted, Potter. Now keep quiet and start climbing. We need to be hidden when we start casting offensive spells."

Pulling back a few inches, Draco waited till Potter gave a small nod and then started moving up and over towards the back side of the tree. The branches were close enough now that they did not need to cast _wingardium_ _leviosa_ to help them to the next tier.

Three branches up Potter pulled him aside into a thick clump of blue green leaves to rest. He rubbed at his chest and frowned at his shortness of breath. The pair had been in Arda for over a month already. Draco's body should already have recovered it strength.

"You shouldn't be this weak, Malfoy. Stay hidden and I'll take care of stunning them, alright?"

Potter's voice broke into his thoughts. If the mutts hadn't been ransacking their camp a mere forty feet below the two, Draco would have laughed.

"Stun, Potter? A stunner is not going to take theses things down. You cut them, you break their back or you avada them. You do not stun them. We leave them alive and they will track us down. Can you do that? Can you cast an Unforgivable?"

Had Harry been asked that a year ago, he would have been vehemently spitting back the answer no. But a year ago he had had no training and a year ago he had been sure he could stop Voldemort and his followers without the violence and cruelty of the Unfogivables.

Now that he had fought the battles he had and used that violence and cruelty to save so many, Harry realized he no longer had the luxury of that naivety. With a quick nod, he gave his answer.

"Yes. Now stay here while I move around to the other side. I'll take care of them."

The smile that crossed Malfoy's moon pale face would have disturbed Snape himself.

"Kiss my arse, Potter. I'm not a damsel in distress."

As Potter moved around to the left side of the trunk, Draco turned his attention to the now destroyed clearing. The cooking rabbit had been quickly devoured and the firestones scattered in the ensuing battle for scraps. The toadstool seats created weeks ago had been shattered and the smallest of the wargs was busy chewing on a stone shard.

Draco frowned. He had heard 5 distinct howls by the time they had made it to the second branch yet only three had appeared in the clearing. A flash of movement from his left distracted him. Potter was starting the attack.

Whatever it was caused the warg with the rabbit carcass to drop its mouthful and release a high pitched yip. Again Draco frowned. That was a stinging hex if ever he saw one. Quickly raising his arm he quietly cast _avada_ _kedavra_ on the beast chewing toadstool shards. The deep green of the spell sped through its body and dispersed into a puff of mist.

The sudden thump of their companion's body drew the attention of the larger wargs. Curious, Draco withheld his next spell wondering what the creatures would do. Sniffing the corpse, the warg stung by Potter's hex turned to the last of the three. A great coughing, hacking noise unlike any Draco had heard before issued from between its teeth.

With a sudden start, he realized the warg was _speaking…_not any language familiar to him but never the less, actual words were coming out of the creature's great maw. The unharmed warg gave a shake of its tattered mane in response to whatever the other had said and quickly sprang away, disappearing into the shadows.

Looking around with its teeth bared and its mottled gums showing, the large beast slowly backed away from its fallen companion. Stopping only when it had reached the shadows at the edge of the clearing, it sank down onto its haunches. The only thing the scattered remains of the blue fire showed of the creature were the eyes, yellow orbs scanning back and forth for the threat the had felled a pack mate.

These things had more than a hunter's viciousness and instinct. These things had a human intelligence. With a shrug, Draco dismissed the thought. Whatever the case, the killing curse worked just as well on them as on humans.

Watching the warg he had hexed wait in the shadows, Harry wondered why the ugly thing hadn't been scared off by the stinging hex.

"He knows we're here, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave a huff from the other side of the tree. His voice reached Harry in an angry hiss.

"Of course it does, Potter. If these things have their own language, they are smart enough to know one doesn't just drop dead. Why did you cast a stinging hex of all things?"

Harry gave a small wince. He had hoped Malfoy would let that one go.

"I thought a hex would scare an animal away."

Malfoy leaned around the narrowing trunk and glared at the back of Harry's skull.

"How in the hells did you survive the war, Potter?"

Turning around to snap back a reply, he stopped when Malfoy held up a thin finger. The other child disappeared behind the trunk of the tree and a whispered spell shot off, shooting over the creeping body of the warg which had come closer to their tree during their whispered conversation.

"That was a rhetorical question, Potter."

Draco cursed when his spell missed. Damn Potter for distracting him. The warg moved quickly through the clearing, and started circling the tree the pair was crouched upon. More coughing, hacking sounds issued from its mouth as it hunched down for a moment and then sprang upwards.

The scrabbling of its claws against the bark and the harsh scrape of its garbled words made Draco want to cover his ears. Shrinking back into the nearly black foliage, he resisted the urge to climb higher into the branches. Steadying his hand once again, he cast at the moving form and missed again when the beast darted to the left, giving what sounded like a harsh cackle as it did so.

Whatever the sound, it was cut short when Potter's flickering green avada slammed into the large body and knocked the beast onto its side. When the body hit the mossy ground, a series of howls were let loose into the air from some distance away. Again they sounded and again once more, slowly moving farther away each time they broke through the air.

After waiting an hour to see if the third warg would return, the pair descended from the trees and started repairing the damage inflicted to the clearing. Once things had been to put to rights they laid the two corpses out next to the gathered fire. With a shiver that went unnoticed by Malfoy, Harry had cast a charm on the fire reversing the color from blue to a warm gold. His shoulders lost their tension when the light reached farther than the cold blue light had.

Malfoy had quickly cast cleaning charms across both corpses, a small twist of the lips signaling his disgust at having to touch the greasy clumped fur along the bodies. Once clean, the child kneeled down and started to examine the teeth and claws of the wargs.

Spreading the paw of the smaller one, Malfoy had singled out one of the five claws and used a slicing spell to remove it from the body. Casting another cleaning charm, he held it up to the light and turned it this way and that. Looking over towards Harry, Malfoy threw the claw to him.

"Those could come in handy in the future, Potter. Should we be without our magic at some point, the fangs especially could be helpful."

Harry tested the sharpness of the claw against the pad of his thumb. Placing the tip against his flesh drew an instant bead of blood to the surface. With a small smile, Harry placed the claw on top of the toadstool he had been sitting on. Going over to the bigger corpse he started the process of removing teeth and claws from the wargs.

As his hands became slick with the nearly black blood of the beasts, Harry neatly set each fang and claw next to his knees. While the night was still quiet the sounds of insects were slowly starting to trickle through the air. Still, something nagged at the back of his thoughts.

"Malfoy, do you think the third creature will come back?"

Draco paused in his examination of the small warg's corpse. If these things were truly as intelligent as he suspected, the majority of the pack had most likely stayed behind.

"No doubt, Potter."

"We should move camp now, if so…someplace more defensible and with more room to spread out than this."

Draco nodded absently, running his bloodied hands against the rough fur he had cleaned not moments ago. Though the spell had removed the debris and greasy residue from the fur, the spell had unfortunately not removed the smell.

"No, Potter. Someplace small and contained would be better. These beasts are large and heavy, though quick. With our small sizes we could easily fit into tight spaces, too tight for them. The mountains would be perfect."

The raven haired child frowned for a moment, then sighed and looked over to the fire. Potter's mouth thinned as if he wanted to disagree.

"Fine, Malfoy, but you should know I don't do well in tight spaces."

"You're the size of a midget, Potter. I doubt you'll have too much trouble."

More faint howls interrupted their conversation, and Draco's head tilted to the side as he listened. A nasty grin flickered across the pale face and his lips pulled back, showing faintly pointed teeth. Turning to Potter, he gave the other child a considering glance.

"Tell me Potter, have you ever hunted large game?"

Be warned, everyone. This story may include time skips since there are so many years between this and when the Fellowship of the Ring begins. I'll try to make it as painless as possible.


	9. Chapter 9

Winter had come to Fangorn. For the last three months rain and snow had heavily pelted vast regions of the dark wood. The creatures of the forest had grown their winter coats and others had hidden themselves away, deep beneath the earth. Temperatures kept all but the hardiest of plants from showing their leaves.

Even with the benefit of warming charms, the two children had been hard pressed to keep the chill from their bones. Luckily, Draco, having been raised in the social circles where such knowledge was fashionable, knew the furs best to keep the cold away. Keeping a ready supply of them within the small cave that had become their hiding place was easy enough.

Sitting upon the cliff ledge mere yards away from the cave entrance, Draco stared out across the tree tops of Fangorn. The rising sun caught the white hair of the fur wrapped around his widening shoulders, sparkling like the snow drifts upon the rocky environment surrounding him. Only the top half of his face was exposed to the cold, extremities like nose tip and ear tips bright cherry red.

Much as he missed the warmth of spring, Draco found that he enjoyed winter more. Especially winter here, at what seemed like the top of the world. The harsh granite stone he sat upon was miles away from that warm spring clearing the two had first appeared in over a year ago, and miles higher in elevation. The smell of pine, oak and cold old stone was crisp and clear at this height.

The cave at Draco's back had been cramped and uncomfortable when Potter and he had first found it. And true to his word, the brat had been tense and snappy for the first month or so in the small commode. Draco had found his patience evaporating after the ninth argument in five days had left a dent the size of a small boulder bashed into the side of the cave.

A terse explanation of Potter's childhood explained the discomfort. When Potter had found the cave expanded to somewhat roomy portions the next day, the tension had eased immediately and the arguments diminished in force and frequency.

A small grin passed across covered lips as Draco contemplated the other child. Though Potter's temper was still red hot and a thing to be avoided, his control had improved since the _setumsempra_ incident that had torn open Draco's chest. It was certainly a change for the better if you asked him.

Harry woke slowly to the smell of tea and the _ting ting_ sound of the kettle. The thick furs that made up his bed slid easily off his body when he levered himself upright. Looking around, he saw no trace of Malfoy. Shrugging Harry reached over to the pile of clothes next to the furs and withdrew a heavy sweater. Luxuriating in the feel of warm, soft wool against his skin, Harry surveyed the room and gave a small smile. It had nothing on Hogwarts, but it certainly felt like home.

The dent Harry's magic had punched into the wall months ago contained the merrily cracking fire, a magically carved chimney directing the smoke so it did not drift into the room. Malfoy had carved the back of the fireplace with designs of trees and birds and Harry had made it so the chimney spout curved and wound its way through the mountainside, emerging from the rock roughly a mile and a half away. The faint glow of morning light dappled the rug covered passageway leading towards the outside world, yards to the right of Harry's bed.

Magic had shaped the chairs and the table from the rock floor beneath his very feet.

Opposite Harry's bed, was Malfoy's, covered in fur and mossy green sheets just like his own. The frames of the beds were merely stone edges raised from the floor. Between the two beds were the table and chairs. Shelves and recesses that had been pressed into the rock contained candles and glass orbs of steady flame, dishes and knickknacks scattered amongst the lighting implements. Every so often one could see the glint of a squat potion bottle peeking out from the mess, the contents glittering darkly.

Getting himself out of bed, Harry quickly braided his thick hair and gave a long stretch, proceeding to gather breakfast dishes for himself. Tucking a small loaf of bread from the table under his elbow, Harry filled two cups with tea and made his way into the passage. The floor of the narrow hall sloped sharply down and then up again to help contain the heat from the main chamber, the hall widening the closer he got to the outside. A bronze cauldron stood near the outer entrance, the curled lip waist high. Black willow branches were piled inside, soaking in the cold water within.

Emerging through the permanent barrier charm across the entrance and onto the small ledge, Harry found Malfoy sitting dangerously close to the edge. The cold snap of the wind bit at his nose and fingers, making him clutch at the hot mugs of tea more tightly. Harry took a few steps forward and peered over, down the sheer drop to the forest below. Faint birdsong reached his ears, tucked as they were into the warm twist of his braid. Sitting down beside the quiet child, he offered some bread along with a cup of tea. Malfoy refused the bread but took the tea.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Malfoy nodded and uncovered his mouth enough to take a sip, giving a satisfied sigh at the flavor.

"More dreams. They're always the same, a dead tree burning in a city of stone."

"Malfoy, do you think they might be premonitions?"

Harry tried to keep any derision out of his voice as he asked the question. Having had the words of a Seer hanging over his head most of his life, Harry still thought it was a load of hog wash. He had chosen his fate, not had it forced upon him as Trelawney's words had suggested.

Malfoy gave a negative shake of his head, wisps of white hair slipping from the pulled back knot he usually kept it in.

"I'm not a Seer, Potter. Any trace of the Sight in my family line is generations' back, not anything strong enough to give me visions. I'm not worrying about them in any case."

A lonely howl broke the silence of early morning and Harry gave a subconscious twitch at the sound. Malfoy's eyes slanted towards him for a moment and he huffed when the pale child raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine."

Malfoy laughed and gestured to the necklace of warg teeth around his neck, something Harry rarely took off.

"You know they're more scared of us now then we are of them?"

"I know. I just don't like them this close to home…it make's me feel a little territorial."

Malfoy just shook his head and took another sip of his tea.

"I wonder what those mutts are hunting now."

Harry gave a little grin.

"I'm in need of some exercise today. Why don't I find out?"

Harry crouched low, his lithe frame hidden by the spiky outcroppings of the cliffs side. The day was cold and grey but the light was still good enough to make out the hulking figures creeping out from the trees. He had been gathering herbs for Malfoy when he'd noticed shadows flitting behind him. He'd been hoping to take up the search for the wargs when he'd completed the errand for Malfoy but it seemed his timetable had been moved up. The large hulking shapes had been wargs, but what had been strange was that these wargs had riders.

Humanoid and ugly, Malfoy had made mention of this creatures months ago as beings to be avoided. Orcs, were what he had called them. Scarred and scattered with metal rings piercing their flesh, tusks protruding from their lower jaws, they were ugly and had a look of malice seemingly stamped on their faces.

They had trailed him for miles during his search for Malfoy's herbs. Harry had made sure that he had kept his body posture loose and relaxed, never letting the tension in the pit of his belly curl his spine. The wind had been stiff and cold, whipping past his face and blowing his scent towards the wargs constantly.

The cave was ten or so miles south. Harry had ventured east, farther and farther away from their hideaway and the scents that lingered in the surrounding area. Looking closely, Harry could see the cleaver like swords attached to the harnesses of the wargs. The blades, from hilt to blade tip were coated in a dark tar like substance. Blood, no doubt.

Looking away from warg riders and up to the cliffs side, Harry tried to discern a path upwards. The cliff was not sheer by any means, but steep enough the wargs would not be able to follow. Giving a short huff, Harry kept himself low as he crawled towards the base of the cliff. Reckoning the height to be close to two hundred feet, he gave a mental groan and cursed softly. Trust him to back himself into a corner.

Casting a disillusionment spell, Harry shuddered at the feeling of raw egg sliding down his neck. With one last look at the approaching riders, he started to climb.

Minutes ticked by as he climbed higher and higher, trying to avoid disturbing any nesting birds that might give away his location. The stone was rough and sharp, easy to climb if you were small enough and had opposable thumbs. As he climbed, Harry tried to catch a glimpse of the riders over his shoulder. Unfortunately wisps of hair blew across his vision every time he turned his head to look, obscuring his sight of the pursuing creatures.

By the time Harry had climbed about fifty feet up the cliff his muscles had started to ache. Finding a small niche, he gave a sigh of relief and put his back against the chilly stone. Many feet below him the riders had found his original hiding spot.

Looking down Harry watched the three riders and their wargs mill around the rocks below, cursing and spitting at each other in a foul language. Just as Harry was about to continue his way up the cliff, a fierce bellow echoed through the trees and the surrounding area. Small pebbles rained down the cliff side and the harsh caw of disturbed birds burst from the forest. Harry cringed. Something or someone was pissed.

Another roar sounded and this time was accompanied by a series of high pitched yips and yowls. The wargs beneath Harry's feat sent out high pitched yips of their own, startling to the side every time the sounds repeated. The orcs atop their backs cursed at them for their sidling and at a barked command from one jumped off the backs of their mounts quickly.

As soon as the ugly humanoids were off their backs, the wargs were off like a shot. The lead orc gave a disgusted snort and spat in the direction of the mutts. With a wave, he motioned to the others to keep searching. The three started to spread out amongst the rocks. Harry however, did not follow the orcs progress. He watched the area of the forest where the wargs had vanished into the black foliage. A feeling deep in his chest warned him to stay _very_ still, no matter that he was invisible to the natural eye.

A large, familiar form burst through the tree-line. Clutched in his gnarled, twisted hands dangled the remains of two of the orcs mounts.

"HOOOMM…GNASHING AND BURNING…hroomm…CRUSH YOU AND KILL YOU…hoomm…ORCS IN MY FOREST!"

Treebeard's very sap felt as if it was boilng. Orcs in _his_ forest! How dare those maggoty worms put their filthy roots upon any creature within Fangorn! Looking about, he located the maggots in questions…scrambling about the rocks of the mountain without a care, leaving their bloodstained filth upon all they touched. Treebeard felt another roar work its way up his trunk.

Bounding forward, he threw the mangled bodies of the wargs at the orcs and dived into the pile of boulders. Small sounds of pain issued from amongst the rocks when a large fragment of stone landed on two of the three, crushing them instantly. He pushed aside rock after rock as he desperately searched for the third. Treebeard gave a satisfied _hroom_ when his roots finally closed around the stinking body of the last orc. Lifting the squirming body up till the creature could look into his eyes; Treebeard glared at the orc and started to squeeze…slowly.

Harry gave a squeak.

A killer tree wasn't something one saw everyday, after all, so his squeak could be excused.

The Whomping Willow didn't count. The Willow couldn't uproot itself; chase you down and slowly, deliberately crush you to death if you pissed it off. Quietly, Harry cancelled the disillusionment spell. He doubted the killer tree would play nice with something it couldn't see. Keeping himself still, Harry frowned as he watched the large creature. That booming voice had been familiar but the creature's face was covered in warg blood and was not recognizable.

He flinched when the orc in the tree's hand… exploded…for want of a better word. Fighting the urge to throw up, Harry pressed himself tighter to the cliffside.

"Hroom…hooom…nasty orcs in Fangorn…foul…fithly…hroom…"

Harry blinked as amber colored eyes the size of dinner plates turned in his direction.

"TREEBEARD!?"

Draco's head shot up from his task when a shrill shriek sounded from the east. Looking into the distance, he narrowed his eyes at the horizon. The sun was past the midday point and Potter had still not returned. Draco wasn't worried about the Gryfindor, but still, he needed the herbs before sunset.

However, after searching for a few minutes, his excellent vision could pick out nothing unusual. Shaking his head, he went back to heating the cauldron full of willow stalks.

The wargs must have caught whatever they had been hunting…poor bastard.

Treebeard shook out his roots in disgust, the crushed body of the orc sliding wetly from his grasp to hit the rock with a _plop_. He then turned and started to move away, intent on finding the rest the filthy creatures. But a small squeak of his name caught his attention. Turning back to the pile of boulders, Treebeard crouched down and began to move the boulders aside. That did not sound like the voice of an orc.

"Up here, Treebeard!"

Harry shouted, hoping that his voice was loud enough for the large tree to hear him. When the huge, blood spattered face of the Sheppard turned from the rocks up towards him, Harry gave a huff. Hopefully the great twig would remember he was a friend.

In the year or so since Malfoy and he had arrived in Arda, Harry had come across the Ent only a handful of time. Maybe only once before when he had been on his own. From all the encounters the three of them had had, Treebeard had been very kind and very helpful. But Harry had never seen viciousness like this from the Sheppard before.

"Hroom…humm…I know…hmmm…you…hrooom…little elfling…hoom"

He gave a sigh of relief as a smile split the mossy beard of the giant face below him.

"I would hope so, Treebeard! I thank you for the rescue!"

"Hmmm…rescue…little…hroom…one...hoom?"

Harry blinked.

"Yes Treebeard. The five you killed were tracking me since morning. So thank you!"

The great amber eyes of the Ent studied Harry thoughtfully for a moment, before a questioning sound issued from within the green beard.

"What…hroom…was your…hmmm…name again…little…hoom…one? Hrmm…Hadrian…hoom…wasn't…hmmm…it?"

Harry shook his head. Looking down, he thought for a moment and then shrugged. It wouldn't be polite to disagree with a tree that had just come out of a blood frenzy, nope, not polite at all.

"Hadrian's as good a name as any, Sheppard."

The Ent gave a slow nod and came closer to where Harry was perched upon the small ledge.

"Hmmm…would…you…hroom…like…to…hoom…come down…Hadrian?"

Treebeard reached up one lengthy arm as he asked this, offering Harry the palm of his hand. Harry contemplated the bloodstained wood for a moment, and looked at the fifty feet of air separating him from the ground. Pinching his nose closed, Harry jumped onto the rough, broad palm.

"Please."

Draco paced in front of the fire. He had half an hour before the sun set and the pain relieving potion he'd been working on all day was ruined. If Potter didn't make it, Draco was going to ring his skinny neck!

As he continued to pace, a sound from outside the entrance hall halted his step. A great crunching and shifting noise reached his ears, like the sound of an avalanche in reverse. Cautiously, Draco proceeded to the outside ledge. Looking over the edge, he jerked back with a girlish shriek when Potter's head nearly hit his. Landing on his bum, he scooted back as quickly as leather pants would allow till his back hit the wall of the mountain behind him.

Potter was slowly lifted over the edge of rock, gripping onto the giant hand that was holding him. Muffled laughter came from behind the hand Potter had slapped over his mouth and watery, humor filled green eyes were tilted at Draco.

Stepping off of what looked like a bloodstained knot of tree roots and onto the flat stone of the ledge, Potter uncovered his mouth and gave Draco a jaunty little wave.

"Hi honey. How was your day?"

For any that are concerned about the time skips, the way I'll be doing it is increasing the amount of time passed with every chapter. So it started with days, weeks, months and right now it's going to be years. So now just think decades and centuries. Also, I would love to hear suggestions or any ideas about the story you guys have. I do apologize for the formating of this and the last two chapters. I've been having a few problems transfering docs. over to FF.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Rivendell was beautiful during the spring. The waters of the Bruinen River ran clear and deep, the rapids roaring loudly. Saplings stretched their tender, uncurling leaves for the vast blue sky. The flower filled pastures were full of stumbling foals and watchful mares. The halls of the Last Homely House were a hive of activity, for today was the Spring Solstice and tonight marked the start of three nights of feasting and celebration.

The cooks in the kitchens stirred, whipped and shouted at one another above boiling pots steaming with aromatic smells. Maids and errand boys bustled through the halls, chattering quietly but happily as they went about their tasks. The gardeners were busy in the fields and terrace gardens gathering flowers and herbs for the festivities. The stable doors were propped open, a parade of horses going in and out as the best of Rivendell's steeds were led out to be groomed.

Elrond Half Elven stood by the railing of the library's porch, watching the preparations with a content smile. Today for once, the golden circlet upon his brow did not feel like a burden. The day was warm and bright, so his usually heavy velvet robes had been replaced with a light silk robe instead, belted with a thin black sash. His hair was free this day from the traditional braids to trail down his sturdy back in thick waves of ebony.

Turning at the sound of the library door opening, Elrond observed the nervous errand boy pausing upon the threshold. With a sigh, he moved from his place on the porch to resume his seat behind the large oak writing desk that dominated the floor of the airy room.

"You may enter. What can I do for you, friend?"

With a swift bob of his head the errand boy took a few steps into the study and paused, giving a bow from the waist to the Lord and Master of Rivendell. A pale flicker of gold shifted behind the deep blue of the errand boy's tunic, bright against the shade of the hallway.

"A messenger has arrived, my lord. He waits in the hall."

Elrond smiled.

"So I see. Where is this messenger from, if I may ask?"

The elf blushed at his unintentional omission.

"Apologies, my lord…he has journeyed from Lothlorien."

Despite the warm sunlight and light breeze playing amongst the treetops and along it verdant borders, one could not tell that spring had come to the heart of the Greenwood. The trees did not unfurl green leaves and the flowers that bloomed were all the colors of the night, petals black as orcs' blood. The rivers ran slow and quiet, miasma floating above the dark waters. Spiders tended their young in webs strung between fungus ridden trees, their numerous eyes glittering in the gloom and mandibles clicking loudly away in the heavy silence.

Deep within the forest and far beneath the earth, laid the home of Thranduil, King of Greenwood the Great, and his court. Within the largest of the underground halls, a great feast was in progress. Figures in glittering finery twirled and danced before a huge hearth, the flames making the jewels draped upon the spinning figures sparkle like stars.

Before the hearth stood a large throne, carved of black wood and twisted into pained contortions like the roots of a dying tree desperately seeking water. Upon the throne lounged the figure of Thranduil, son of Orophor. The honey brown fur and forest green leather draped across his tall figure set off the silver, antlered crown upon his head and the bright golden hair woven through it.

Thranduil sipped at his wine, watching the merry making of his people. He was about to join in the dancing when a commotion came from the opposite side of the hall.

Slipping through the crowd with ease was the thin, armor bedecked form of a border scout. Thranduil settled back onto the throne with a sigh. The dirt smudged scout went to one knee without hesitation. The king frowned for a moment at the sight of bloody tears in the scout's green and black uniform, before waving a hand at a nearby servant and nodding at the kneeling elf.

"Bring food and water, now."

Turning to the scout at his feet, he stared at the elf, sky blue eyes growing cold and curious.

"You are many leagues distant your post, warrior. Why?"

Lifting his bowed head at the king's question, the scout softy replied.

"Two evenings past a stranger attempted to enter our borders with stealth. My squadron and I detained and questioned him. He is a messenger from the White Lord and Lady, my King."

Galadriel stared into the pool of water, the silver bottom of the pool distorted in the ripples caused by the wind. She willed the water to show something, anything but no matter how hard she concentrated or how long she watched, the surface of the water remained clear.

Coming to this glade in the heart of the Golden Wood was something she had not done in an Age or more. She came here now as last resort. Nearly two years to the day had passed since that night she had been woken from her sleep, the light of two powerful beings flaring to life in her minds eye. It had been two years of fruitless searching for them in the perilous depths of Fangorn and being rebuffed at every turn by the dark presence of the forest. Every scout sent to Fangorn found their way barred by thickets of thorn and thistle, every creature within setting tooth and claw against elven armor with a terrible fury.

The bright sparks of light that had represented these elven souls in her Sight were gone, disappeared. Not gone in death, no, for she would have felt it had such power disappeared from Arda completely. It was as if a veil had covered them…shielded them from her ever seeking eyes. Fangorn, it seemed, had claimed them as its own.

And not even the old magicks of ages past could help her find them.

Turning and making her way out of the glade into the perpetual blue twilight of Lothlorien, Galadriel pondered upon her dilemma. Celeborn, her Lord, had been in the right when he sent messengers to Elrond and Thranduil mere months ago. But still, there was a part of her, deep within the deepest recesses of her heart, which wished she had been able to find such powerful creatures herself.

Galadriel gave a sharp shake of her head as she made her way up the pale, glowing stairs the led to her and Celeborn's bower, high amongst the mallorn trees. Such hungering for power had no place within the heart of the White Lady, not when she knew the dark reaches such desire would lead her to.

When Galadriel had reached the top of the stairs, she paused for a moment to observe her husband sleeping upon a daybed. Silver hair spread out beneath his head in shimmering strands and one broad hand had slipped from its resting place upon his chest to trail long fingers against the warm wood floor.

Galadriel smiled at the sight of him and shook off the dark feelings that had plagued her mere moments before. While the power of those vanished soul may never be hers, Celeborn's heart was. Joining her husband upon the daybed, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes, ready to join him in dreams.

With the other elven lords coming to her aid, it would matter not who or what was hiding the two from her Sight. Nothing short of a powerful Istari could stand up to the combined strength of _two_ Rings of power.

Elrond leaned back within his chair, studying the crowd of elves before him. Lords and ladies dressed in their finest danced to the minstrels' lively music, servants slipping with quick footed grace between the dancing pairs. In the midst of the crowd a dip in the stone floor held a crackling fire, sparks leaping high and flickering in the wake of the dancers. The feasting hall was grand and large, and the dance floor was hemmed in on three sides by heavy hewn tables groaning under the weight of rich food and plentiful drink.

The doors to the feasting hall were thrown open to the warm spring air and through the archway streamed elves to and fro, the roar of the river dim amidst the loud celebrations. Seated at the center of the high table with his daughter, Arwen, to his right and his chief counselor, Erestor to his left, Elrond held the place of honor in this Feast of the Solstice.

To the right of Arwen, two seats were empty, though wreaths of herb and leaf sat upon them to honor those who were absent this night. Other than these two seats, every chair and stool in the cavernous banquet hall was filled. Those who had no seats danced or stood conversing against the walls and spilled out onto the steps outside of the hall, the heady scent of wine, flowers and roasting meat drifting through the air.

Gazing upon these empty seats, thoughts of the White Lady's messenger filled Elrond's mind. Erestor, noticing the direction of Elrond's gaze, turned toward his friend.

"Elladan and Elrohir were due to return from their hunt two nights past, were they not?"

Elrond nodded.

"Indeed they were."

Erestor frowned in concern as his lord continued to stare at the empty seats. Arwen, who had been watching the dancing, turned to her father and placed a pale hand upon Elrond's embroidered sleeve.

"Do not worry, Ada. They have not missed a Solstice Feast since they were elfings. They will turn up soon enough, I am sure. But until then, dance with me, please. Unless, of course" and here Arwen paused, a mischievous smile tilting her lips up " you feel your old bones might tire trying to keep up with me."

Elrond's dark eyes finally turned from the empty seats and towards his daughter. Truly, the "Evening Star' of Imladeris was glorious as her grandmother, Galadriel, this night. Clad in a red and blue velvet dress with a starry jewel upon her throat, her deep blue eyes shone with reflected light. Elrond smiled and decided Galadriel's message could wait for one night. Elrohir and Elladan were as predictable as their sister said and most likely would turn up sometime during the festivities, boasting of their hunt till their mouths ran dry.

The Lord of Riven stood and pushed back his chair and drew up Arwen. Walking past Erestor towards the dance floor, Elrond snagged his counselor's arm and drew him out of his chair as well. He gave a laugh as he pulled his friend along, ignoring the usually demure elf's cursing as he and Arwen made their way off the raised dais the head table stood upon.

"Come, my old friend, stop your cursing. Let's dance the night away as we did in our younger days and show my daughter the true meaning of tired!"

"We're going to be laaaate!"

Elrohir gritted his teeth at the long drawn out whine which grated against his ears. Though his brother, Elladan, was supposedly the older of the twins, tonight he was acting like an elfling. Even the horses were starting to get annoyed with Elladan, manes and tails twitch in irritation every time his twin's voice reached that particular pitch. Taking a slow deep breath as his black steed cantered steadily along the path between the tall, wide trees, Elrohir relaxed his jaw and kept looking steadfastly forward.

"The Feasting doesn't end till the day after tomorrow, 'Ro, and we'll be home by evening if we keep this pace. We are not going to be _late_!"

Elladan gave a moan of horror and quickly moved his horse to walk side by side with his brother's horse. Where his brother's steed was midnight black, his was the pale white of a river stone, though with the coat of dust upon each steeds hide it was hard to tell in the early morning light. Elladan held his mount's reins loosely in one hand and gesticulated wildly with the other.

"We _are_ too going to be late! The first night of Feasting is always the best...and we're missing it! And this time it's completely your fault!"

Elrohir looked at his brother in astonishment. Each brother had long black hair gathered together in a rough braid beneath his brown hood and the same large grey eyes looked at one another. Each wore light leather armor covered be a lengthy cloak, its heavy material still damp with last night's rain. Elrohir carried two curved blades strapped over his cloak and Elladan a single sword, heavier and broader than his twin's scimitars. Heavy saddle bags bulging with the fruits of their hunt lay snug and secure upon their horses backs. The smell of blood came from the saddle bags and mixed with the crisp scent of the evergreen trees around them

"It is not _my_ fault! I'm not the one who thought it'd be a good idea to stick a wasp's nest into a sleeping warg's mouth. That one was all your idea!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes in exasperation. When he made to keep up his scolding, his brother quickly interrupted him before he could gather any more steam.

"How about a wager, 'Dan?" he asked in a calculating voice. If there was one thing that Elrohir enjoyed more than scolding his big brother, it was gambling. Elrohir raised a suspicious eyebrow at his brother, wise to his twin's scheming after so many years.

"What kind of wager?"

Elladan grinned.

"It is the racing kind, little brother. If I make it back to the valley before you, you promise you'll never tell Ada about the warg and the wasp's nest. Is it a deal?"

Elrohir held up a hand.

"Not so fast, 'Ro. What do I get if I make it back first?"

Elladan thought for a moment.

"I promise I will never tell Ada it was you who dyed Arwen's skin purple last Solstice."

Elrohir gave a decisive nod. It would be a relief to remove that particular incident from Elladan's blackmail material. He quickly squeezed his knees to his steed's side, taking off in a flash and laughing at the indignant squawk he heard behind him.

"It's a deal!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The two brothers disappeared into the trees, late afternoon light filtering down upon the forest loam.

Thranduil took a deep drink from his goblet, staring at the thick parchment spread before him on his study's stained and blackened table. The glow of the evening lamps lit every corner of the cavernous room, the walls thick with weapons of past battles and painted scenes of war. The stone floor was covered heavily with furs and rugs of all sorts, muffling the soft murmur of scribes. Though the study was many floors below the feasting hall, the stamp of dancing feet and the slow, steady beat of drums could still be heard.

Setting his goblet down and picking up the letter, Thranduil walked towards one of the study's fireplaces. This one was large and dominated most of one wall, the heat overwhelming the chill of the air so far beneath the earth.

_So a new power had come to Arda…one interesting enough to have the White Lady calling for counsel in the finding of it. And Fangorn of all places is where it chose to roost. How curious._

Thranduil crumbled the missive in his hand and tossed it into the leaping flames. However curious such a thing might be, he could not spare aid for the White Lady now. Not when the Greenwood was slowly growing dark and the long, watchful nights closed in about him. Let her erstwhile son-in-law send her aid from his hidden valley, safely nested within the long arms of the Bruinen.

Thranduil sent a look of disgust towards the flames and turned away. Gathering his goblet, he made his way across the study and towards the grand stairways, intent on rejoining the evening's festivities. The doors closed with a heavy thud behind him, Galadriel's forgotten message curling slowly within the fire.

Enjoy every one!


End file.
